


another day of the year

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Baking, Couch Cuddles, Dust (Dusttale) - Freeform, Dust/Horror - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Horror (Horrortale) - Freeform, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Phantom Papyrus, Valentine's Day, being his usual shitty self, horrordust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29445402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: “Shut up!” he cried, whipping around to slash at his brother with a conjured bone, since nothing else was shutting him up.He moved too fast, though, and knocked the bowl of icing he’d made — lumpy as it turned out — off the counter. It clattered to the floor and broke, shards of porcelain flying in every which way as the cream splattered the cupboards and tiles.“Fuck.”
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 104





	another day of the year

**Author's Note:**

> alternatively titled; VERY LIBERAL use of italics. sorry ♥  
> happy valentine's day!! ♥

_‘You’re doing it wrong.’_

Dust growled, slamming the whisk into the bowl of icing in favor of glaring at his brother, who had taken to hovering over his shoulder, nasal bridge scrunched in distaste at what he saw.

The kitchen was not a place that Dust frequented, not past the usual midnight trips to the fridge and cupboards for a snack — or the occasional bottle. No, that was Horror’s forte, but he’d saved up a favor with the boss for doing an amazing job on one mission or another, and used it up to make sure that the big skeleton wouldn’t be in the castle today.

Dust didn’t know where Nightmare had sent him, or what he’d told him; he’d been assured his request would be honored, and that’d been the end of it. And it had indeed been honored, because he hadn’t seen Horror since the morning, so the kitchen was free for him to use.

_‘I don’t know why even bother. You’re just letting him walk all over you, and for what?’_

No, you’d never understand, Dust wanted to scream at Papyrus. Instead, he grit his teeth and gripped the edge of the counter.

_‘You’re so desperate that you just let him use you. Like a toy. Don’t you know what happens to toys that lose their charm?’_

“Shut up,” Dust muttered, taking a shaky breath that he didn’t really need. Papyrus’ words were tailored to get under the skin he didn’t have, and he knew there wasn’t a shred of truth in them. He _knew_. It didn’t make them any easier to hear, though.

_‘They get thrown away.’_

“Shut up!” he cried, whipping around to slash at his brother with a conjured bone, since nothing else was shutting him up.

He moved too fast, though, and knocked the bowl of icing he’d made — lumpy as it turned out — off the counter. It clattered to the floor and broke, shards of porcelain flying in every which way as the cream splattered the cupboards and tiles.

“Fuck.”

 _‘Well, it was ruined anyways,’_ Papyrus told him, _‘You shouldn’t even have tried. You’re only good for one thing, and it’s LOVE. Not love.’_

Dust’s shoulders shook as he sent another bone at the dead sibling. Actually, he was shaking all over. He knew it wasn’t true, he _knew_ that Horror loved him and that it had nothing to do with LOVE, his own or otherwise. The other skeleton made sure to hammer it home through his thick skull at any given opportunity. And yet…

And yet here he was in a dirtied kitchen — _extra work_ — with food spattered far enough to hit the wall — _food wasted, Horror hated wasting any food, he’d be pissed, and disappointed—!_

The fire alarm went off, and with it, the overhead sprinklers. There was smoke coming out of the edges of the oven door, and so was the smell of burning. Dust swore again, his knees buckling under him as water collected on the tiles underfoot.

He ended up in a heap, clothes soaking as the water kept pelting him and the kitchen both. And because he was already being pathetic, and Papyrus was busy telling him exactly how much, he just let himself be even _more_ pathetic, and didn’t fight the tears that sprung to his sockets. They mixed with the water as they ran down his cheekbones.

And that was how Horror found him once he returned from wherever it was that Nightmare had sent him, sprawled in a puddle in front of a still-smoking oven, crying over a bowl of cream.

“Lambchop? What… what happened here?”

Dust sobbed, curling up on himself.

_‘Look at yourself! You’re leaving yourself vulnerable! Gross!’_

“I tried to bake a cake for you, because it’s Valentine’s, but I fucked up and I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad,” Dust tried to explain, except the words got lost around the lump in his throat and came out as a slurred, incomprehensible mess. He sobbed again.

Horror was by his side in a blink of a socket, unheeding of the fact that he, too, was getting soaked. He turned the oven off with a flick of the knob — and _fuck!_ why hasn't Dust _done that_ yet? It was just one fuck up after another.

He muttered something again, this time not sure what it was even meant to be himself. A hand touched his shoulder and he was pulled into Horror’s chest. He was soaked to the bone, clothes sticking to him and it was gross and it must’ve felt gross to Horror, too.

He fought the hold, a wet noise wrenching itself from his ribcage, but Horror didn’t let go. Papyrus was saying something again, but Horror’s voice was clearer, and he wasn’t shaking like Dust was, despite the blood splatters coating his hoodie.

“Shh, s’okay, Dusty,” he muttered, and Dust tried his best to focus on the gravelly tones of his voice. No one sounded quite like him, and a few seconds of nonsensical placations had the tears stopping. Dust blinked them away and the blood that had coated Horror was gone, too.

 _‘You could kill him with one hit,’_ Papyrus said. He wanted to break every bone in his hand when he reached out and tapped Horror’s shoulder, the one not currently occupied by Dust’s own chin. _‘Bet he’d be great EXP. Come on, you know you want to.’_

Horror didn’t give a single indication that he’d felt the touch, and instead pulled Dust away to look him in the face, a big thumb coming up to rub the lilac magic off his skull. Belatedly, he realized the sprinklers had stopped trying to flood the castle.

“Are you okay, Dusty?” Horror asked him, as if he couldn’t see the disaster Dust had made of the kitchen. Stars, it’d take ages to clean, and he’d fucking _wasted food_ — “...breathe.”

Dust took a deep breath, almost choked on it, and promptly melted into the hand cradling his back.

“Are you okay?”

Dust nodded, all he could bring himself to do. In his peripheral, he could see Papyrus’ disapproving stare.

“...magic?”

A headshake. He opened his mouth, closed it when nothing came out, and tried again. “I… tried to bake a cake.”

Horror slowly stood up, supporting Dust as he pulled him along. He didn’t even realize how they ended up in the living room, but Horror corralled him to the couch. They were tracking water all over the carpets, and Nightmare wouldn't be happy about that, but he didn’t have the time to worry about it when Horror pulled him close again.

It was marginally more comfortable on the cushions.

He was still wet, and cold, and Papyrus insisted on telling him exactly which rib to drive an attack through to make it hurt the most, but at least Horror’s hands never left him. It made it all at least bearable.

“We should… take a shower,” Horror said. But Dust didn’t want to move yet, and the bigger skeleton didn’t actually try to move just yet.

“‘m sorry,” Dust whispered, voice raspy.

 _‘Pathetic,’_ Papyrus reminded him. He tried to block the voice out.

“For what, Dusty?”

Horror only ever called him Dusty during times like these, and Dust was loath to admit it brought him a measure of comfort. It was a nickname Killer had come up with, followed by ‘bunny,’ but Horror had been the only one to ever call him by it and not get a blaster to the face. 

“I… I wasted food.” The ‘ _please don’t be mad,_ ’ was tacked onto the end, even if it wasn’t spoken out loud. He still had a bit of dignity left, even if it was miniscule.

Horror cooed, his ribcage shaking where Dust still gripped onto the front of his hoodie. He wasn’t even sure when that had happened. But the start of Horror’s purr was unmistakable, like an old engine revving. It was a nice sound.

“S’okay,” he said, like a promise.

Dust shook his head again. “I just… wanted to do something. Since it’s Valentine’s. And you’re supposed to do something nice. So I thought you’d like a cake and— I fucked everything up.”

Horror’s purr didn’t stop; he pulled Dust close again. “S’okay,” he repeated. “How about we… make one together. Tomorrow.”

Dust almost, _almost_ started crying again. The care in Horror’s words was _tangible_ , and Dust couldn’t help but wrap his arms around his neck, push himself as close to him as was physically possible. “Fuck, I love you,” he muttered, shaky but honest.

“Love you too, Dusty. Come on… let’s take a shower. I’ll… I’ll clean up.”

There should’ve been guilt — for causing trouble, for making extra work for the other one — but all Dust could feel was relief. Not even Papyrus had anything to say to that, because how could he hope to match up to the conviction of Horror’s voice, the level of love?

“Fuck, _thank_ you.”

Baking a cake together sounded more romantic than doing it alone, anyways, even if the recipe scrawled onto a scrap of paper was most likely ruined by the water. Dust was sure Horror knew one of his own, or had another recipe card somewhere.

He let himself get pulled up again, towards the other’s bedroom. A shower and fresh clothes sounded mighty fine.

He also knew he didn’t have to make up for anything, he _knew_ , but he kind of looked forward to washing the other’s back.

A show of love.

 _Love,_ not LOVE.

Because he was capable of it.


End file.
